


Quidditch, Like Revolutions, Is for Girls Only

by thraenthraen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Gen, Homophobia, LGBTQ Character, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Quidditch, Racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2020-12-23 22:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21089057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thraenthraen/pseuds/thraenthraen
Summary: Astoria Greengrass: pureblood, Sacred Twenty-Eight, clever, gifted at Charms, loyal to her family, and more than happy to sneer at any and all mudbloods and blood traitors from the moment she set foot at Hogwarts. How could a girl with such promise turn out to be such a disappointing daughter-in-law for Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy?This story follows Astoria through her years at Hogwarts, full of secret Quidditch leagues, unexpected alliances, and a coming war that is sure to bring out the worst—and best—in people.





	1. First Years Never Make the House Teams

“How come _ he _ gets to play then?” Astoria snapped, finger pointing at Aled Vaughan. “It took him _ weeks _ just to get on his broom properly in lessons, let alone actually _ fly_.” Honestly, if she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought he was a _mudblood_. Not that Slytherin usually let in that sort, of course. 

Still, even if he’d been part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, that would have only made him her _ equal _ at best . Add in his abysmal flying, and Astoria couldn’t see why he was allowed and not her. As soon as Madam Hooch had cleared her to fly at the start of the year, Astoria had _ begged _ the Slytherin Quidditch Team to let her fly with them, even just to chase stray balls or throw golf balls to help their Seeker, Draco Malfoy, practice. Captain Marcus Flint had told her no and shooed her away, but now here he was letting _ Aled _ of all people do just that.

“_He _ doesn’t sound like a shrieking banshee,” Marcus said. The rest of the team sniggered. 

“You said you didn’t have enough brooms!”

“Ah, see, we don’t have any little girl’s brooms,” Miles Bletchley sneered.

“I—” Astoria snapped her jaw shut as her eyes fell on Draco. The flash of panic on his face as their eyes met told her all she needed to know. Fine, if he was going to be like that—she strode toward him, grabbed his broom, mounted it, and kicked off. “This one suits me just fine,” she called out from several feet above. She saw Draco grab a broom from one of the Beaters and race up toward her.

“What are you playing at?” he hissed. The rest of the team were kicking off now too.

“Mind your business, Draco.”

“It’s my business if you take my broom!”

“Yeah? Well—” Astoria’s witty retort was cut off by something hitting hard her in the chest. Her grip slipped, and she swung sideways, only managing to hang on by one hand. “Flint!” she screeched, digging into her robes for her wand. Before she could curse him though, something else hit her hard in the back, and her other hand slipped off the broom. 

She woke up in the Hospital Wing. 

“Oh thank Merlin you’re alive.” Her sister Daphne was sitting by her bedside, her brow creased with worry. “How are you feeling?”

Astoria blinked slowly, trying to remember what happened. As she did, a sharp pain went through both her legs, and she looked down. She gasped. 

“They’re only broken,” Daphne said reassuringly, though she had pinched her face unpleasantly. Astoria’s legs were sticking out at odd, unnatural angles and wrapped from hip to toe in bandages. “You fell about fifty feet.” Then, seeing the horrified look on Astoria’s face, she added: “Madam Pomfrey can have them fixed in a flash. She’s mended much worse.”

As if she’d heard her name, the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, hurried over just then.

“Oh, good, you’re up. Here, drink up.” She waved her wand, and three bottles of potions soared from her office and floated in midair in front of Astoria. “This one first,” she said, pointing to one with a pink-ish liquid inside. “That’ll help with the pain. And then this,” she pointed to a silverly potion, “is for the actual bone mending. The last one is just to put you back to sleep. I’ve got to put your legs back in place, and you don’t want to be awake for that.”

“Go on,” Daphne said encouragingly. Astoria sighed and drank.

“Sorry about the Quidditch thing,” Astoria said as she took a seat next to Aled in Potions the following week. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he said. The door shut, and the class went silent as Professor Snape swept to the front of the room to begin class. 

“They’re just looking out for you, you know,” Aled said after a while. Astoria froze, porcupine quills clenched in her hand, which was now hovering over her cauldron. Hexing someone off their broom fifty feet in the air sure didn’t seem like _ looking out _ to Astoria. “I mean, what if you got hit by a Bludger?” He looked at her and shook his head. “Pretty girls like you shouldn’t play Quidditch. It’d ruin your nice face.”

_ Crack_. The porcupine quills Astoria had been clenching snapped. She took a deep breath and tossed them aside. Carefully, she picked up fresh, unbroken quills, carefully added them to her cauldron, and stared determinedly at the board to read the next line of instructions. She didn’t say a word to Aled the rest of the lesson, though he continued to mutter reasons why it was for the best that the Slytherin Team wouldn’t let her near a broomstick, all of which Astoria thought were very stupid reasons.

“It’s not _ fair_,” Astoria said to her sister in the common room that night. “Stupid Aled gets to play with them, and he’s not even on the team.”

“Marcus thinks he’ll make a good Keeper,” Daphne said. If it was anyone else, Astoria would have been annoyed, but she knew her sister was just trying to help. 

“Only because he’s about ten feet tall already. He’s an _ awful _ flier.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re letting him practice with them. Give him a bit more time on a broom.”

“Aled thinks I’m too _ pretty _ to play.”

“He said you’re _ pretty_?” Daphne grinned. Astoria scowled back.

“I don’t _ care _ if he thinks I’m pretty!”

“You won’t be saying that in a couple years.” Astoria caught her sister glancing over at a group of older boys. Daphne had, unfortunately, recently entered what their parents thought was a very endearing “boy crazy” phase. Astoria didn’t think it was endearing at all. 

“You know, Slytherin is the only house that doesn’t have _ any _ girls on the team.”

“Then you’ll get to be the first girl on Slytherin’s team,” Daphne said encouragingly.

“Oh, sure, like they’d let me on team now.”

“If you’re the best at tryouts next year, there’s no way they wouldn’t.”

“And how am I supposed to be the best if stupid _ Aled _ gets to practice all year and I don’t?”

“I thought you said he was awful.”

“Well, yeah, but—but—” Astoria sighed. “You really think I have a shot?”

“You’re a good flier.” Daphne smiled, and Astoria gave a weak smile back.


	2. Target Practise

Daphne’s reassurance, while nice, was not enough for Astoria though. At home, her parents had let her fly all the time. It wasn’t like they cared about Quidditch. It was just the easiest way to get Astoria out of their hair when they wanted some quiet, _ and _ it was a very effective way to get her to do just about anything. Rewarding her with broom time or threatening her with locking up the broom almost never failed to convince Astoria. 

Now, stuck at Hogwarts with no broom—first year students weren’t allowed their own—and no chance of Madam Hooch unlocking the school brooms for a First Year to go flying around on her own, Astoria was desperate. She couldn’t stand the thought of an entire year away from Quidditch, and she wasn’t exactly hopeful that the Slytherin team would change their minds next year and let her play with them. She’d need to be twice as good as anyone else on the team for a shot, and she wasn’t going to get there by staying on the ground for a whole year. She needed _ practice_. 

Which is exactly why she faked a stomach ache partway through dinner one night. After reassuring her house mates she was just going to go lie down a bit, she slipped out of the Great Hall and, rather than heading toward the dungeons where the Slytherin dorms were, slipped outside to follow a couple Ravenclaws. She was sure they were on the Quidditch team and just as sure tonight was Ravenclaw’s practice. After all, she’d stuck around after class last week to help Madam Hooch put the brooms away just to sneak a look at the pitch reservations. 

If Slytherin wouldn’t let her play, so be it. She’d just help someone else beat Slytherin then. Of the options, well, Gryffindor was out immediately. While helping Gryffindor beat Slytherin would have certainly embarrassed the Slytherin team the most, she doubted Gryffindors would agree to it. Hufflepuff she thought would be nice enough to let her ride around on a broom, but she doubted they would be up for anything that could be considered unfair. More likely they’d just write a letter to Snape or Dumbledore politely asking that the Slytherin team be forced to have a fair tryout next year. As if that would help.

All in all, Ravenclaw seemed like the best bet to Astoria. They were on friendly enough terms with Slytherin to not pick a fight at the mere sight of her, while also not so thick as to think polite letters to the Headmaster were the best way to solve problems. It was, she figured, her best shot, and she’d spent the last week going over what she’d say to convince them to at least let _ fly _ with them.

The trick was to get a nice one on her side quickly before she ran into opposition, so she had to be careful about who she spoke to first. She’d been making excuses to overhear the players in the halls, getting a sense for who seemed nicest. Of course, since she wasn’t sure the Ravenclaw boys would be much better than the Slytherin boys, it ended up being a pretty easy decision: Cho Chang, Seeker, Fourth Year.

“Hi,” she said, catching up to Cho Chang just before she joined the rest of her team in the changing rooms. Chang turned, confusion spreading across her face as she took in the small Slytherin girl. “I was wondering if, er—” Astoria looked down at the ground. She had planned it all out, but up close, Chang seemed a _ lot _ more intimidating, and her stomach was turning unpleasantly. What if she said no? What if she laughed at her? No, it was a stupid idea. She should just go back to her dorms. “Sorry,” Astoria muttered. “Nevermind.” She turned away.

“Wait,” Chang said, grabbing Astoria’s arm. “It’s okay.” Astoria looked back up at her. Her stomach was in knots. She had to say _ something _ now, but she wasn’t sure if it was possible to get the words out. Somehow, planning it all had felt fine, but actually _ asking _—actually giving Chang and the Ravenclaw team a chance to say no and feeling the rejection a second time? Astoria thought she might vomit. “What were you going to ask?” Chang prompted.

“Er, well—” Astoria looked around, as if she might find her nerve just lying on the grass. 

“What’s going on?” An older boy Astoria knew to be Captain and Chaser Roger Davies had stepped out of the changing rooms, already in his practice robes. At the sight of him, Astoria’s nerve went running off into the Forbidden Forest.

“It’s okay, Roger,” Chang said. “I’ll just be a minute.” Astoria saw his eyes flicker to the green highlights in her robes, but he shrugged.

“Okay, we have some things to go over before we start, so be quick, Cho.” With that, he slipped back inside. Astoria looked up at Chang, took a deep breath, and summoned up as much resolve as she could find.

“Please can I practice with you? Or I can fetch dropped balls, or bring the team water, or throw golf balls for seeker practice, or—”

“Er, aren’t you in Slytherin?”

Astoria looked at the ground. “Slytherins think girls shouldn’t play Quidditch,” she muttered.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Astoria looked up at her; it looked like she was being sincere.

“I asked the Slytherins, but they don’t want girls on the team. They told me I’m too pretty.”

“Are you sure—”

“They let another boy in my year practice with them, and he can barely stay on a broom longer than five minutes. They just don’t like girls.” Chang looked at her quizzically, as if trying to make sense of the small, eleven-year-old Slytherin trying to join the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team.

“Cho,” Davies said as he walked back out, “we really need to start practice.” He looked at Astoria. “Go on back inside, kid, you can talk to her later.”

Chang looked quickly between Astoria and Davies. “She was just, er—” Astoria could feel her trying to make a decision, and she did her best to look like the sort of person Cho Chang would stick up for—though she wasn’t really sure who that was, so she mostly just looked nervous and tried to smile hopefully. “She wanted to know if she could watch.” Astoria’s heart sank. She didn’t want to _ watch _ . She wanted to _ play _.

Davies frowned at Astoria. “She’s a Slytherin.”

“Slytherin have better ways of spying than sending a little kid.” Chang shrugged.

“Fine,” Davies sighed. “It’s not like we can actually stop her watching.” He pointed toward the entrance to the stands. “Go on, kid. You can watch, but you’re not coming in here. C’mon, Cho.”

“Sorry,” Chang mouthed at Astoria, and then she and Davies disappeared into the dressing rooms. Astoria sighed and slunk off to the stands. At least she wouldn’t have to listen to Pansy Parkinson swooning over ugly gits like Marcus Flint. She considered just going back to the dormitory, but she didn’t want to risk running into her dorm mates now when she was supposed to be in bed with a stomach ache. With any luck, they’d see the curtains drawn on her bed, assume she was asleep, and not notice when she slipped in later after practice. 

“Well, can you fly?” one of the Ravenclaw Beaters said, jumping in front of Astoria suddenly as she headed back toward the castle after the practice ended. Astoria stumbled back and bumped into someone. She turned and saw Cho Chang, who gave her a slight smile. She looked back at the Beater, who she thought was called Samuels. “Cho says you’re looking to turn in that nasty green for a nice blue, eh? Let’s see then.” He held out a broom. It looked like one of the old school brooms. Astoria gaped at him.

“Really?” He grinned. Astoria, not wanting to risk he’d change his mind, took the broom, mounted it, and kicked off. It didn’t ride anywhere near as smooth as Draco’s Nimbus 2001—this one was the one that had a slight preference to the right, which she had to keep correcting, and it was much slower—but she raced back to the pitch, did a flip, and turned back around. Samuels and Chang had followed her on their own brooms.

“You know, I can see why those gits wouldn’t want you to step foot near their practice,” Samuels said. “Give you a couple years training, and you’d probably fly circles around them, even with their fancy brooms.”

“Good,” Astoria said, “so I can beat them myself.”

Chang and Samuels looked at each other and frowned. “Er,” said Chang, “I don’t think you can actually _ play _ for any house but Slytherin.”

“But I’ll give Flint a nice bludger to the face for you!”

“I just want to be able to _ practise _ ,” Astoria said. “I know First Years never make the team, so I don’t care that I’m not on the _ team _ yet, but they’re perfectly happy to let any of the First Year _ boys _ be on the pitch with them during practise.”

“What? They just let them fly around all practice?” Samuels gaped at her.

“Well, I mean, they don’t just _ ignore _ them. They usually have the younger kids fetch the Quaffle if someone drops it or let the Beaters practise their aim or—”

“_They use First Years for target practice??? _” Chang and Samuels both nearly slipped off their brooms.

“Well, yeah, it helps them learn how to fly.” Samuels’ mouth was hanging open. Chang looked like she’d just bitten into a vomit flavoured Every Flavour Bean. 

“And you’re _ upset _ they don’t want to put you in the hospital wing?”

“Oh, they do,” Astoria said darkly. The other two both raised an eyebrow, but Astoria shrugged. “I don’t really care how or with whom, I just want to play Quidditch. Maybe eventually they’ll stop being gits and let me prove I’m good enough, but I don’t want to just sit in the stands all year, every year until that happens.”

“Tell you what,” Samuels said brightly. “I’ll hit bludgers at you for an hour each week, and you can try not to end up in the hospital wing.”

“Really?” Astoria’s heart did a small leap.

“What? Of course not.” The spark of hope fizzled out. “I’m not going to try to beat some kid senseless. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“The kind who doesn’t have to go through Snape for permission to use the pitch and school equipment?” 

“Here’s a better idea,” Chang said. “If we finish practice early like today, we can pass a Quaffle around for a bit and let you take some shots if you want.”

“That would be amazing.” Astoria beamed.

“Roger’s already locked up the balls tonight, I think,” Samuels said, “but I guess there’s no harm flying around a little longer.”

It was the happiest Astoria had felt since arriving at Hogwarts—which wasn’t to say she was unhappy at Hogwarts. Despite the Slytherin Quidditch Team being a bunch of gits, Astoria got on well enough with the rest of her house, and it was exciting to finally be at Hogwarts and learning real magic. But she missed Quidditch, and she missed flying, and even just twenty minutes flying around the pitch with Chang and Samuels, even with an old and dying broom—Astoria could barely contain her joy. It hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, but she’d gotten to _ fly_. Even all the dementors stationed outside Hogwarts couldn’t have brought her down as she floated her way back to the Slytherin dungeons.

“I thought you were sick,” Pansy said as she entered the common room. Astoria froze. A cold, sickly feeling passed over her like it had when the dementors entered the train at the beginning of term. 

“I—I went to the hospital wing.”

“Daphne said she checked and you weren’t there.”

“She must have missed me.”

“Your hair’s a mess.” Astoria nervously pat it down. Some of the other Slytherins were staring at her now.

“I’m going to bed,” Astoria said firmly. Then she strode as quick as she could without being obvious straight toward her dormitory. To her relief, Pansy didn’t follow, and none of her dorm mates seemed particularly concerned about why she wasn’t already in bed, nursing a stomach ache.

Worried that Pansy would notice again, Astoria didn’t sneak off to Ravenclaw’s next practice. In fact, it wasn’t until early November, while the whole school was preoccupied with the news that wanted mass murderer Sirius Black had broken into the castle that Astoria chanced sneaking off to the Ravenclaw practice again. With no reason to be early, Astoria buried her face in her Potions notes and ate slowly, stalling until most of the Slytherins had headed off to the common room. Once she was sure anyone who would pay her any mind was well and gone, she stuffed her notes back in her bag, finished her dinner, and headed out of the castle. 

Despite the rain, practice dragged on. Astoria heard Davies shouting throughout almost the entire practice. Their first match of the year, in which they would play Hufflepuff, was coming up soon, and Davies seemed determined to lose his voice before then. 

“I was starting to wonder where you’d gone,” Chang said when Astoria caught up with her after practice. 

“Sorry, just a lot of homework,” Astoria lied. 

“I’m really sorry you’ve come out in this, but we’ve already gone over our time for the pitch. Roger really wants to win it this year.” 

“It’s okay.” Astoria tried to keep her disappointment from showing. 

They walked in silence up to the castle. 

“Filch will kill you if you track all that mud in,” Chang said once they were inside. “Here.” She drew her wand and pointed it at Astoria. “_Scourgify_!” Astoria was suddenly clean and dry. “Anyway, see ya,” Chang said, and she headed up toward Ravenclaw Tower. 

Astoria hardly got another chance to play any Quidditch that year. After the match with Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw would play Slytherin next, and, despite Astoria’s offers to spy on Slytherin for them, Davies sent Astoria away without a chance to fly at all. The loss to Slytherin only made it worse. Even Chang had told Astoria she better not stick around during their practices anymore. By the time they’d gotten over the loss, it was time for Ravenclaw’s final match of the season, and, despite Astoria’s near-endless screams for Chang to knock Potter out of the sky (which the rest of the Slytherins gleefully joined), he managed to snatch the Snitch and win the game.

Whatever hope Astoria might have had of finally having free run of the pitch after the season, it was gone before the season even ended. Sirius Black managed to break into the castle once again, this time coming within seconds of killing a student. None of their teachers would let the First Years go anywhere alone after that, not even to the bathroom. Astoria tried pointing out that Black was clearly only after Gryffindors, but this did not go over very well at all. Professor McGonagall was especially insistent on not letting her go anywhere unescorted after that. 

Even Slytherin’s embarrassing defeat to Gryffindor and subsequent loss of the Quidditch Cup didn’t feel anywhere near as funny, knowing that she still couldn’t play. Taunting the team about their loss—they were two hundred points ahead going into it and somehow still lost the Cup—was a lot less fun too with the other Slytherin’s casting her dirty looks for it. Summer could not have come any sooner.


	3. Not Even Muggles

“Snape’s given us permission to keep up practices all year,” Draco said in his irritating drawl. “Gryffindor won’t know what hit them.”

He’d been a nightmare all summer. The Greengrasses insisted Daphne take Astoria along any time she went to see her friends, which was far too often in Astoria’s opinion. Every time Draco was around, he hinted vaguely about what was going to be happening at Hogwarts that year. (“He doesn’t actually know anything,” Astoria had told her sister, who was far more impressed by Draco.) Then there was all the gloating about sitting in the Top Box at the Quidditch World Cup, which had struck a deeper nerve because Astoria didn’t get to go at all, despite her many pleas to her parents.

Astoria, deciding she cared more about Quidditch, kept her mouth shut and just smiled vaguely. If there wasn’t a Quidditch Cup this year, surely there was no way they’d be allowed to stop her joining their practices. She just needed to keep her lips sealed and not give them any reason to try to stop her, and they’d be happy to have her. At least, that’s what Daphne had said.

“When’s practice?” she said lightly to Draco that night in the common room. He looked up at her, glanced at his oversized mates Crabbe and Goyle, then looked around the room.

“It’s just for the team,” he said quietly. 

“Is Aled invited?” She raised an eyebrow. Draco avoided her eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“Why don’t you ask _ him _ when it is then?”

“Aled thinks I’m too _ pretty _ for Quidditch.” Draco sniggered. “Well, I’m glad you agree with me then. It’s a stupid reason not to let me play, and anyway, there’s no Cup this year.”

“We’re supposed to be training for next year.”

“Half the team’s graduated or graduating this year. You’re going to need to train new players.”

“So?”

“So it’d be stupid to stop any Slytherins from getting some more training so you’ve got a better lot to pick from next year.”

“Well, we’ve already got a Seeker, so—”

“I don’t want to be a Seeker anyway.”

“You’re way too small for anything else.”

“Oh, come off it, Draco. You’ve seen me fly. Don’t you want to beat Gryffindor?” He scowled, and she knew she’d struck a nerve.

“Fine, first practice is Saturday morning, nine o’ clock, but you didn’t hear it from me.” He shot a look at Crabbe and Goyle. “And neither of you say anything either.”

“Thanks, Draco.” She flashed him a small smile.

“And don’t blame me when the others don’t want you around,” he muttered.

Draco, it turned out, was right. As soon as they’d seen her, Derrick and Bole, the Slytherin Beaters, told her they’d hex her if she so much as touched a broom. Even complaining to Professor Snape did no good. He insisted on backing whatever the team said and suggested she be a bit more like Pansy Parkinson and cheer from the stands. The team, after all, surely needed her support, even at practice.

Pansy, of course, found this suggestion to be absolutely delightful. While Astoria thought she’d rather just stay inside, Pansy insisted on dragging her to every practice to cheer on the team. Pansy was especially enthusiastic in cheering on Draco, which only made it worse in Astoria’s mind. 

“They’re just afraid to get beat by a girl,” Astoria grumbled to her. “Bet that’s why they hate Gryffindor so much. All their Chasers are girls, and they’re way better than ours.”

“Are they?” Pansy sneered. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Of course they are. We keep losing to them, after all.”

“I meant they look the same as the _ boys _ on the team.” She rolled her eyes. “At least in Slytherin, girls actually _ look _ like girls.”

Astoria glared.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re still trying to get on the Slytherin team?”

“Of course I am,” Astoria huffed.

“Well, stop it.”

“Leave her alone, Pansy,” Daphne said quietly. She’d been working on her Transfiguration essay in the stands behind them, but she was looking up at them now.

“I’m only trying to help,” Pansy said sweetly. She looked back at Astoria. “I mean you’ve seen Krum’s face, haven’t you? You don’t want to look like that just for a bit of Quidditch.”

“I don’t care what I look like,” Astoria huffed. “I like Quidditch. And anyway, everyone thinks Krum’s so handsome even with his face like that.”

“Yeah, because he’s a _ boy_,” Parkison said. “No one would think you’re pretty if you went and got your nose all messed up like that.”

“I don’t _ care_.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes at her. “You _ do _ know what everyone says about the Gryffindor Chasers, right?”

“Pansy,” Daphne said firmly.

“Not even _ Muggles _ think that’s right,” she muttered. Astoria didn’t have a clue what she meant.

“C’mon, Astoria,” Daphne said, standing up suddenly. She tossed her things in her bag and held out her hand to her little sister. “We can—we can toss a Quaffle around or something later, okay?” she said when they had left the stands. “Maybe you can try out next year.”


	4. The First Task

“Where have you been?” Pansy asked Daphne as she and Astoria slipped into seats at the Slytherin table one morning. “You’re all wet.” Astoria opened her mouth to respond, but Daphne shook her head warningly. Pansy’s eyes narrowed, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“I needed a walk,” Daphne said. In truth, Astoria had found the school brooms unlocked, and what had become their usual early morning bit of Daphne throwing balls every which way for Astoria had turned instead into Daphne soaring around the grounds far longer than they were usually out, and Daphne had forgotten to magic them dry in their rush to make it to breakfast.

“What? In this?” Draco said, gesturing broadly at the enchanted ceiling above, which was thundering menacingly.

“Didn’t fancy a run-in with Filch, did I?” Daphne shrugged. Pansy narrowed her eyes, but didn’t say anything else. After a moment, she turned back to sniggering with the other Slytherins about the badges they’d made which said _ Potter Stinks_. 

Astoria had taken one to wear, but she didn’t actually care who won the tournament. Her fascination with Krum had lasted all of a day, Diggory and Potter were both a bit too full of themselves for her taste, and Delacour hadn’t inspired any interest from her either. As exciting as the tournament would be—and having a fourth champion had certainly given everyone plenty to talk about—she had been looking forward to Quidditch all summer. If there had been an actual _ team_, maybe Snape would have told them they had to at least let her try out, or maybe she could have tried convincing the Ravenclaw team to actually let her join their practices this year. Instead, she got dragged to the stands every time the Slytherin team practiced so she could watch them bitterly and listen to Pansy swooning over Draco, the ugly, cowardly git.

By the time the First Task finally came around though, Astoria had a hard time remembering to be irritated at the tournament. The chattering as they made their way to their seats in the stands was contagious. Astoria found a spot amongst the other second years a couple rows back from her sister and the other Slytherin fourth years. Everyone was excitedly debating what the task would be. They were in a large clearing in the Forbidden Forest, with several scarred, serious-looking wizards talking back and forth with each other below, preparing whatever it was the First Task would be.

Finally, a booming voice came on, silencing the chatter in the stands. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament! As we speak, your champions are drawing lots to see who will go first and to find out what exactly they’ll be facing. The task ahead of them will test their daring and nerve, as well as their ability to think quickly. Armed only with their wand, the champions will each have to safely collect a golden egg without harm to our special guests or their eggs. Ah, and here comes our first!” 

A couple wizards came through the clearing, magically carrying a clutch of several large eggs, placed it near the edge of the clearing, and then quickly got out of the way. Another wizard rushed forward, added a golden egg to the clutch, and hurried off. Several more wizards came through a moment later holding chains and pointing their wands at—_no way_, Astoria thought as the crowd gasped. It was a _dragon_. It was moving sluggishly, but it was clearly determined to get to those eggs. Once it reached them, it settled down onto them.

“Yes, that’s right, that’s a Swedish Short-Snout! Now, it’s time to welcome our first champion. Please give it up for _ Cedric Diggory!_” The crowd roared with excitement. Astoria couldn’t help it—arrogant though Diggory surely was, she cheered along with the rest of the Slytherins he walked out from the Champions’ Tent to face the first dragon. 

Diggory ducked and dived and dodged. He transfigured a boulder into a dog and eventually managed to distract the dragon long enough to slip in and grab the golden egg. As soon as he’d succeeded, the dragonologist swarmed and stunned the dragon. They moved the Swedish Short-Snout and its eggs out of the clearing, brought out the next (“The Common Welsh Green!” Ludo Bagman, who had taken over the commentary, shouted), and Fleur Delacour came out. 

Delacour charmed the dragon to sleep, which Astoria thought was a much better approach than just having a dog run around out of control. Unfortunately, her robes got caught in a burst of flames from one of the dragon’s snores, which cost her some points, but she, like Diggory, got the eggs and passed the task.

Again, one dragon left, and a new one entered, and this time Viktor Krum came out to face it. Despite herself, Astoria found herself most to watch him get past the dragon. What if he transfigured some grass into a broomstick and flew? There was an international Quidditch star at their school this year, and Astoria wanted to see some proper flying. Instead though, Krum sent a curse flying at the dragon’s eyes. It worked, but the dragon thrashed about in agony, damaging some of the eggs in the process. 

And then there was only one left: Potter. The jeers from the Slytherins, Astoria included, were deafening. If any of the Champions were arrogant prats, it was Potter by far. He shouldn’t have even been allowed to complete, but as usual, the rules didn’t apply to him.

Potter walked into the clearing, raised his wand, and shouted something. Nothing happened, and the Slytherins burst into laughter. Someone laughed about him forgetting how to use a wand. Others wondered if he’d spent too much time being raised by Muggles. Then Astoria heard it: something was racing through the trees. A moment later, Potter’s Firebolt soared into the enclosure and stopped beside him.

“We get it, Potter! You’ve got a Firebolt!” Astoria shouted, rolling her eyes. The Slytherins broke into another fit of laughter as others called Potter a show off. 

“Nice one, Astoria,” Pansy called back, grinning.

But Potter could _ fly_, Astoria realised. It was one thing diving after Snitches, but Potter was dodging bursts of fire, weaving this way and that, and coaxing the dragon away from her eggs. When Potter pulled out of his dive clutching the golden egg, it was all Astoria could do to keep from cheering along with everyone else. If only the Slytherin team could fly so well, she thought she might not be so angry they wouldn’t even let her try out. Of course, it seemed like the Slytherin team cared more about a fondness for fouls and size (or, in Draco’s case, money) than for actual flying skills, so maybe she didn’t want to be on their team anyway.


	5. I'll Be Home for Christmas

“Send mum and dad my love,” Daphne said. She gave Astoria one last squeeze, and then nudged her toward the carriages. Astoria thought it all felt very backwards. She’d seen her sister off for two years, and now Daphne was seeing her off instead, as only Astoria was returning home for Christmas that year. 

“I will,” Astoria said as she climbed into the carriage. Daphne closed the door. A moment later, the carriage began to pull itself toward Hogsmeade, where the Hogwarts Express was waiting for Astoria and the handful of other students who weren’t staying for the Yule Ball. Only Fourth Years and up were invited, so the only way she could go was if an older student invited her. 

Astoria suspected Vincent Crabbe had tried to ask her to go with him—he came up to her in the common room one day and just sort of grunted and gestured weirdly—but Daphne ran over, wand out, and threatened to put him in St. Mungo’s before he could get any proper words out. No one else tried asking Astoria after that, and she couldn’t say she was all that upset about it.

“Mind if we sit here?” a very small boy with mousy brown hair said. Standing in the doorway of the train compartment was the tiniest boy Astoria had ever seen at Hogwarts. Astoria hardly even noticed girl standing with him. “I don’t know how, but everywhere else is full.”

“_Everywhere_?” Astoria said, raising an eyebrow. She wasn’t generally opposed to having company, but she had decided not to sit with the other Slytherins in the hopes of having a quiet journey home. If she finished all her homework on the train, she’d have the whole holiday free to do whatever she wanted. 

“Yeah, I think they sent a smaller train this time,” the girl said. 

“There is only one Hogwarts Express,” Astoria said flatly. “But whatever, go ahead.” She nodded to the empty seats across from her.

“Thanks!” the boy said brightly. He sat down and looked up at Astoria, grinning wildly. “So what year are you? Why aren’t you staying at Hogwarts? Almost everyone is staying at Hogwarts. Even my brother is staying! He’s not old enough for the ball, but a girl in Ravenclaw asked him, and she’s old enough. My parents told me I had to come home though. Oh! I forgot! I’m Dennis. Dennis Creevey.” Astoria’s eyes narrowed.

“Creevey?”

“Yeah, you probably know my brother! Colin! He’s friends with  _ Harry Potter_! Do you know who Harry—” 

“Of course I know who Harry Potter is,” Astoria snapped. And she knew who Colin Creevey was. He was the mudblood who followed Potter everywhere asking for autographs and taking photos. “ _ My _ family are wizards, after all.”

The boy looked like he had been hit in the face with none other than the Hogwarts Express itself. Whatever foolish ideas he seemed to have about making friends on the train were swept away. Maybe now he’d stop talking long enough for Astoria to actually work on her Potions essay.

“I’m Rhianna Hughes,” the girl said, slower and quieter than Creevey. Astoria looked at her, and Hughes smiled back, as if daring her to make another snooty remark. A strange feeling tickled Astoria’s stomach. 

“Sorry,” Astoria said. She wasn’t really sure why she was saying sorry—there was no shame in being proud of her family, after all. “Astoria Greengrass.” She felt her face starting to burn and became very interested in the landscape which was now zipping by outside the window.

“You’re Daphne’s little sister,” Rhianna said. Astoria didn’t trust herself to speak and instead nodded, still staring out the window. “She’s the one who gave me the Cedric supporter badge.” This time, Astoria couldn’t resist the urge to check the girl’s expression. She was still smiling, and she’d pulled out a  _ Potter Stinks _ badge from her bag. “They’re funny, aren’t they?” She held it out to Astoria. Even though she had half a dozen in her bag, Astoria reached out and picked up the badge. Rhianna’s hands were soft.

“I think they’re mean,” Creevey said. “Shouldn’t you be supporting  _ both _ Hogwarts Champions?”

“Potter cheated to get in,” Rhianna said. “Bloody stupid, of course, as I’m sure he realises now after that dragon, but the Goblet chose  _ Cedric _ . Potter couldn’t handle not being the center of attention for just  _ one year _ .” 

“You’re just jealous,” Creevey huffed.

“It’s okay, Rhianna,” Astoria said, smirking. “You can sit on this side of the compartment. This side supports the  _ real _ Hogwarts Champion.” She grabbed her bag off the seat next to her to make space for Rhianna.

Rhianna laughed, but said, “No, we should probably stop winding Dennis up. I promised Colin I’d make sure he got home safely.” Creevey glared at her. “Agree to disagree, Dennis?” Creevey did not look like he thought agreeing to disagree on such an important topic as the validity of Harry Potter’s entry into the Triwizard Tournament was at all acceptable, but he shrugged and turned to the window. “Colin’s in my year,” Rhianna explained to Astoria. “He’s staying for the Yule Ball. Natalie asked him.” Astoria nodded as if she had any clue who Natalie was. “Eddie asked me, but I’d already promised to ride back with Dennis, so I turned him down.”

“You could have gone with Eddie,” Creevey grumbled. “It’s just a train.”

“The Creeveys are a little, er,  _ nervous _ , about Hogwarts sometimes,” Rhianna explained. “Colin was attacked first year, and they nearly didn’t let him back. It’s harder for them because they’re Muggles, so they just don’t know what to be frightened about or not, you know? If you’ve never even heard of a Mandrake, how are you to know if you should be worried about someone using one to wake up your kid?” She shook her head. “It took a  _ lot _ of convincing to get them to let Colin come back our second year. And after the dementors came on the train last year, I don’t think they would have let Dennis come home on his own.”

“Are your parents wizards then?” Astoria asked. 

“Yeah. They don’t scare as easily since they know Dumbledore would never let something happen to a student, even with all the weird stuff that happens at Hogwarts. I take it yours are too?”

“I’m a pureblood,” Astoria said smugly before she could stop herself, “Sacred Twenty-Eight and all.” Rhianna frowned. “Sorry, that’s just what my parents always say. I don’t believe all that pureblood stuff,” Astoria lied. She didn’t know why she was bothering pretending for this girl. The only people worth impressing, her mother said, were people who wouldn’t turn their nose up at the truth. The truth, of course, being that in-breeding with Muggles diluted magic. Every so often, a mudblood would dazzle everyone with some flashy magic, but the families that consistently turned out the best witches and wizards were all pureblood families. 

“What’s the Sacred Twenty-Eight?” Creevey asked, no longer staring out the window.

Astoria’s usual impulse to tell a stupid mudblood exactly how much better she was than him got lost somewhere on the way to her mouth. Astoria was sure Rhianna wouldn’t have found it as funny as Pansy and the other Slytherins would have, and for some strange reason she wanted this random Hufflepuff to like her.

“It just a bunch of nasty wizards who marry their cousins,” Rhianna said sharply, before Astoria could figure out how to insult Creevey without her catching on. She shot Astoria a dark look, and Astoria felt her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. Rhianna hated her, all because of her stupid family.  _ She’s just a filthy blood traitor _ , a voice whispered in Astoria’s head.  _ She’s jealous _ . 

Astoria flung her bag back on the empty seat next to her, pulled out her Potions essay, and buried herself in homework. The compartment was silent for a long while. Rhianna read a book, and Creevey flitted around from staring out the window to making objects float to literally just  _ bouncing _ in his seat. Astoria barely noticed. She felt confused and frustrated by the earlier conversation, so she had simply decided feelings were stupid and poured all of her focus into her homework instead. It was an excellent strategy at first—she not only finished the essay for Snape, but she’d also done all the reading Sprout had assigned and was nearly done with an essay for Flitwick when Creevey suddenly stood up.

“I need the toilet,” he said and walked out. Astoria looked up and accidentally caught Rhianna’s eye. For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, Rhianna looked down.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was harsh.” Astoria, who had spent the last three hours inventing a long list of reasons why Rhianna was a filthy blood traitor and the worst person in the world, felt something light and airy flutter momentarily inside her chest. And then came Pansy’s voice in her head, suggesting all kinds of snarky comebacks. Rhianna’s parents were probably mudbloods anyway, her mother’s voice sneered. Even Daphne was in her head, supplying her with plenty of witty one-liners about Creevey acting like he was sitting on hot coals.

But Astoria couldn’t bring herself to sneer. Rhianna was acting like she still wanted to try being friends and, you know what? Why not? Why couldn’t she be friends with Rhianna? Because Rhianna was friends with mudbloods? Because her parents would be upset? Because the other Slytherins would make fun of her? Maybe all of Dumbledore’s speeches about making new friends this year was rubbing off on her, but a small but very stubborn part of Astoria wanted to try out this whole friend idea. 

“Whatever,” Astoria muttered. Okay, so that wasn’t really the best way to make friends, but Astoria had to compromise: she would let  _ Rhianna _ try to make them friends, but she wasn’t going to put in any effort herself. It wasn’t her fault if some overly nice Hufflepuff thought they were friends, right?

“So, er,” Rhianna paused, looking for something to say, “did you see the first task?”

Well that was a stupid question. Everyone saw it. “Yeah.”

“Cedric was really good, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Using the dog as a distraction, that was clever.” Astoria had the urge to ask how a Hufflepuff didn’t think it was cruel to send a poor dog to face a dragon, but she reminded herself that she wasn’t going to make any effort to be friends. No questions. “What’d you think of the others?”

Astoria shrugged. 

“If you don’t want to talk—”

“No, it’s fine,” Astoria said quickly. “I like talking.” Rhianna raised an eyebrow. “I mean—” This was not going the way Astoria wanted at all. She should have just let Rhianna end the conversation. Why had she stopped her? She wasn’t supposed to be helping them become friends, just not  _ resisting  _ if Rhianna was going to insist. 

“Did you want to talk about something else?” 

Oh, great, now she wanted  _ more _ input from Astoria. Astoria shrugged. 

“Oh, that’s helpful.” 

Astoria couldn’t help it: she laughed. 

“So I’m just to guess at topics that might interest you then?”

“Sounds right.”

“Oh, this will be easy then. I know every Slytherin’s favourite topic.”

“Do you now?”

“Yes, Harry Potter.”

Astoria snorted. “We’re not all Draco Malfoy.”

That got a good laugh out of Rhianna. “Okay, not the tournament, not Harry Potter, I’m guessing not the ball?”

“Nope.”

“You make this difficult, you know.”

“Good.”

“Did you go to the World Cup?”

“No,” Astoria said darkly. 

“I didn’t either. I wanted to though. My parents said it was too expensive.”

“Do you follow Quidditch?”

“Oh, are you telling me I found something you actually care about?”

Astoria grunted irritably. She forgot she wasn’t supposed to be making conversation. Stupid Rhianna and her stupid persistence. 

“Okay, cool, you’re moody and indifferent again.” Astoria wished she’d stop being so sarcastic. The sarcasm only made her want to be friends even more, and wanting to be friends with a blood traitor was definitely not okay. Next thing she knew, she’d be marrying a mudblood and having magically stunted children. “Do you just like watching, or do you play too?”

Astoria shrugged. 

“You’re right. That wasn’t a yes or no question, and angsty Slytherins need simple, yes or no questions.”

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Astoria grumbled. 

“Spot on. I see you really are as cunning as your house suggests.” Astoria glared. “So do you like playing quidditch?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool. My sister plays too. What position do you play? Probably something that lets you let out all that Slytherin rage? Beater?”

Astoria shrugged.

“You’re not on the Slytherin team, are you?” Rhianna asked.

“No.”

“Makes sense. You don’t really fit the profile.”

“Excuse me?” In a flash, Astoria had her wand out and pointed at Rhianna. Just as quickly, she regretted her impulse and felt her face flush with embarrassment but held her ground anyway.

“I meant it as a compliment. The Slytherin team are all big and stupid and apparently unsure of the rules of Quidditch.” Astoria lowered her wand, feeling all the more stupid for her reaction.

“They’re a bunch of useless gits,” Astoria said. “I can out-fly them all, but they don’t want  _ girls _ on their team. Stupid, pathetic, cowardly gits.” 

“Oh, that sucks.”

“Sometimes I think I’d even play for  _ Gryffindor _ just for the chance to play instead of just booing from the stands. I mean, I’d probably starve after my family kicked me out and disowned me for it, but at least I’d get to play Quidditch.”

“Play for Hufflepuff. We wouldn’t let you sleep rough and starve all summer.”

“You know, I thought about it last year, but I figured you’d all just write a polite letter to Snape asking him to convince the team to let me try out.”

“Oh, no, you’re right, that sounds like us.”

“Funnily enough, I’m pretty sure all  _ that _ would do is guarantee me a month of detention with Snape berating me for embarrassing Slytherin or something.”

“It’s not our fault Snape is a tosser. Get a better Head of House. I’m sure you lot have plenty of ways of getting rid of a person.”

“And you think Snape doesn’t?”

“Fair point. As requested, Hufflepuff house will now refrain from sending polite letters to Snape on your behalf. However, we reserve the right to send polite letters to Dumbledore instead.”

“Dumbledore tells Snape to make the team let me play. Snape does as requested but begins secretly plotting my entirely coincidental death via horrific Quidditch accident. Stabbed to death by my own broom. Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup again.”

“A bright beacon of optimism, you are.”

“Don’t insult me. I’d never be an  _ optimist _ . I’m just realistic.” Astoria rolled her eyes and smiled. Rhianna smiled back, but whatever response she might have had was cut off by the compartment door sliding open again.

“I’m back,” Creevey announced. He glanced at Astoria’s discarded school books. “Oh, did you finish your homework then? I’ve got Exploding Snap.” 

“Actually, I think I need the toilet too.” Without another word, Astoria slipped out of the compartment and headed down the corridor. 


End file.
